Prison
by Maddiecake
Summary: Now in college, the gang is given the opportunity to participate in an experiment that will push them to the limits and test the boundaries of their friendships. AU; based on the Stanford Prison Experiment
1. Prologue

_I felt like I should write something for this fandom since I hadn't in a while. This is based loosely on the Stanford Prison Experiment conducted by Philip Zimbardo. I'm not going by all the events that took place within the real experiment since I haven't found a lot of information on the subject.  
Just bear in mind I don't own any of this, but new characters might be brought in (most of them male)._

**Prologue**

"You can go now." He seemed more nervous than he had in the past five days, standing there with his nightstick and those sunglasses hiding his dark eyes from the world. The guard bit his lip, looking at the prisoner. The man wasn't smaller than him, but he appeared to be because of the way he was curled around the dirty, brown blanket that had provided him with comfort for the entire ordeal.

"I can go?"

"Yeah, Steve, you can go," Johnny said quietly, watching his friend shuffle off, still clutching the blanket. There were people like him all around; people he had known and had been friends with in some cases. Clutching blankets, crying, looking unsure of where to go, unsure of who they _were_. He glanced down briefly at his own attire, seeing the light khaki of his uniform had become a dull brown. Blanket brown.

Behind him, Sodapop put a hand on his shoulder, looking at the damage that had been caused with a blank expression. His brother... his own _brother_ for chrissake, and the things he had done to him... the young man in question moved to Steve, looking pitiful with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Johnny caught snippets of the conversation, and they only weighted his spirits further.

"_... my name?_"

"_30231,_" Steve replied automatically.

Ponyboy slumped a bit but nodded. "_Right, yeah_."

A voice, crackling with the static from the awful PA system down in the basement of the math building, filled his ears. A welcome distraction even if the matter was not one that generally brought warm feelings. _"All guards report to the meeting room_."

Moments later he and the others chosen for the position of 'prison guard' sat around a table. They looked exhausted, unsure of what to say to each other now that it had actually happened. At the front of the room stood Darrel Curtis, warden and the person who had come up with the insane idea in the first place.

"We're stopping the experiment nine days ahead of schedule," he began, pressing his pointer fingers together in front of his mouth as he surveyed the group. "I have footage of the riot..."

Johnny felt sick to his stomach, wanting to jump up and yell for Darrel to burn the footage and erase any sign that the riot had ever occurred, that any of the awful experiment had ever occurred. However, he didn't, losing all strength the position of guard had given him, and finding himself very much bound in place by fear alone.

The footage began; grainy, raw and frightening, with the camera hidden in a corner of the room yet jostled by the force that people were forced up against the wall. He could see himself in the crowd, holding one of the prisoners (70982? He couldn't remember) and screaming in his ear, making him recite poetry, any sort of poetry, and screaming at him as he did it. There was Sodapop, forcing one of the others down, forcing him to do pushups until the prisoner's arms gave out and he collapsed, shoulders shaking with sobs that were lost in the overall chaos.

But there was Dallas, in solitary confinement, you could see him through the bars, and he was sitting there. Just sitting, until his door was broken open, when he jumped into the fray only to find himself moments later with a bag over his head, forced against a wall, screaming that he, 64193, had done something wrong and should be punished.

"Do you believe this to be unethical?"

All was silent. Johnny buried his head in his hands and shuddered a bit as the images played across his mind. He had toyed with people mentally... as bad as his parents...

A boy by the name of Mark decided to speak up, leaning back in his chair with a troubled expression. "Yeah. They didn't do anything... we didn't give 'em a chance."

Slight inclinations of the head was all his statement brought but it was enough to keep him going. "They didn't even start a riot. There were rumors... we acted on 'em and... Christ..." Mark looked like he was going to be sick.

There was more silence that followed, and finally Darrel sighed, ran a hand through his hair and looked at them all again. "You can pick up your hundred dollars on the way out." As they filed out, shedding bits of their uniforms as they did so, Johnny saw Sodapop farther ahead and jogged up to him, falling into step beside his friend and letting out a soft sigh.

"I dunno how I'm gonna go back to Pony," he said nervously.

"Dunno how I'm gonna face him again," Soda replied, looking absolutely devastated. "I did some awful things to him, didn't I?"

Johnny didn't know how to respond. He could try and comfort his friend, but God knows they both did some horrible things to some of their best friends without another thought. It was all a power trip.

"We both did."

"Yeah."

M&M leaned against a tree ahead of them, looking horrified as they approached. Briefly, Johnny's mind flickered to the times before one of the youngest members in the experiment had been taken out. He had locked M&M in a dark room, his laughter filling the small space as the young man begged to be let out, to be allowed some sleep. He didn't run, though, having been taken out three days in when he broke down from stress.

"_I can't deal with it, man! Fucking... I can't... I'm too fucked up. Can't deal with it, too much stuff... fucked up..."_

Had he been crying then? He couldn't remember.

"Hey."

The other two nodded in greeting and M&M stepped back a little bit, looking down at his shoes. He still looked tired, still afraid.

"How're you?"

"... 'm alright."

"... cool."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Johnny looked sideways at Soda, who at last put a hand on M&M's shoulder. He jumped back at the pressure and looked at them wildly. All at once Johnny could see himself back in the basement of the math building, making people recite Shakespeare, leading the prisoners in shaming their comrades. Always the same thing: "_number so-and-so did a bad thing_."

"They ended it early," he said slowly, showing M&M the check.

"Oh. Well... okay... I'll see y'around then?"

"Maybe."

To be truthful, Johnny didn't want to see anyone ever again.


	2. Chapter One

_I'm sorry this is taking so long, but this requires a good amount of research so I've been trying to get everything as exact as possible while still maintaining some creativity here. All research was done on the official website_ for _the experiment upon which this is based.  
I would also like to let you know that while someone was wondering what Ponyboy thought about his brother's experiment, I must have you know that Ponyboy is not related to Darrell in this fic, only to Sodapop. I find it much easier to do this because Darry would _never_ let Ponyboy do something like this if he was in charge and they were related.  
In the future, my notes will be brief, and I just wanted to get this out of the way.  
Nothing you recognize belongs to me._

**Chapter One**

It was early one Sunday morning when two police cars pulled up in front of an apartment shared by two college students. The street was quiet for once, with all the late-night partiers going home or spending the night on someone else's couch (or bed, if the situation warranted it). Two policemen stepped out of the car and marched to number **221**, before knocking upon the door.

Inside lay an eighteen year old, snoring loudly with the sheets tangled about his legs and a book obscuring his face. It was a late-night study party gone awry, with papers scattered around the mattress (the roommates had never bothered to purchase real bed frames) and coffee balancing precariously on the edge of a crate.

A knock woke the student, who sat up in bed, the book sticking to his face for a moment before falling into his lap. Another knock, more urgent than the last and he was out of bed, trying to flatten down his brown hair. No time to get some pants on...

"Ponyboy Curtis?"

Ponyboy felt his eyes grow wide at the sight of two police officers standing before him. He hadn't committed any felony recently, had he? For a moment, the only thought in his head was _I wish I put some pants on_ before he was taken out of the safety of his home and brought to the patrol car.

"You are being arrested for violation of Penal Code 211, armed robbery. You have the right to remain silent, the right to..." The officer's voice was being shut out by the panic and confusion that filled Ponyboy's mind as he was forced to lean spread-eagled over the hood of the car and was searched by the second officer.

_What could I have on me in this?_ He wondered shortly before being turned around and having handcuffs placed on his wrists.

With that, Ponyboy was shoved into the back of the patrol car, trying to ignore the prying eyes of his neighbors and trying to remember why it was he was being arrested. Little did he know that his fate was to be shared by many college students.

_Prison_

Two-Bit sat in a holding cell, hearing nothing except the sounds of his own breathing and seeing... nothing. Darkness. Black. He had been arrested for violating some Penal Code, he could never remember what he had been told, and had been carted off to the police station. Now he was alone, blindfolded, and he didn't even remember _why_.

Of all the things he had done in his life, none of them had earned him this sort of treatment. He felt nervous, even a little bit frightened and he had a feeling it would have been made better had he been able to actually _see_ the eyes of the policemen who had been finger printing him. As it was, he saw nothing except the set frown and a pair of sunglasses.

He could feel himself shaking. The idea that he was in a room, by himself, a small... closed space... although he would have never admitted it to his friends, he was quite claustrophobic, and let out an audible sigh of relief when he was fetched from the holding cell to be taken to the "County Jail" for more processing.

The blindfold was still on as he was shoved forward, but he could hear others talking. How many people had they picked up? _Why_ had they picked him up?

"_What the fuck'm I doin' here?_"

A small smile formed on his lips. _Steve_.

The smile was short-lived, however, for he soon found himself walking down what sounded like tile, before the blindfold was ripped off and the fluorescent lights burned his eyes. When he grew accustomed to the change, he was able to get a good look around.

And what he saw made any relief he felt vanish instantly.

It was a small corridor, with cells on either side and what seemed to be a very small closet at the end marked 'Solitary'. There were no windows, the light was purely artificial, and standing in front of him was a hard-looking man with cold, blue eyes.

"You have been made aware of your rights?"

Two-Bit wanted to make a wisecrack, he _wanted_ to mouth off to this man (who appeared to be the warden) but he found himself nodding. Not a word passed through his lips, and he suddenly felt very small.

"You have been found guilty, and are now in my care. You do... understand the severity of your crime, do you not... mister... Matthews?"

"Yessir."

"Follow the guards, Matthews. You're going to need a shower."

_Prison_

"You realize that you're potentially putting yourself in danger, don't you?" An undergraduate by the name of Bryon questioned, glancing down at the guards who were to be sent out for the next prisoner.

"Yes." One of the guards, a blonde-haired twenty-year old by the name of Sodapop Curtis, gave Bryon a small smile. "We're not gonna run out we—"

Bryon silenced him with a wave of his hand and stopped his pacing to stand before the two. "Now, you can do anything, within reason, to maintain law and order within the prison and to command respect from the prisoners."

"Right," the second one replied. This guard was smaller than Sodapop, thin and meek-looking with big, black eyes. He didn't look threatening at all, which may have been part of why he was chosen.

"Alright. Get on out."

As they turned to leave, Sodapop elbowed Johnny in the side. "Whaddaya think, John? We look like a couplea grade-A Socs in this stuff, don't we?"

Johnny grinned and shook his head, but stopped to look down at his outfit. It was all khaki, hanging off of him and making him look smaller than he already did (at twenty, he only looked eighteen and he hated it). A whistle hung around his neck and he wore mirrored sunglasses. In his hand was a billy club, one issued by the police although he was sure he would never use it. "Yeah, man. If Socs carried this around," he replied, waving the club for a moment before following his friend out the door.

"Where's the prisoner?" Soda's voice echoed in the hall. Johnny glanced over his shoulder, seeing a few prisoners already in the cells. There were three on either side of the hall, each one holding only three prisoners. He had been told that he was only working in shifts, and there were eighteen guards total. One for each "convict".

"Right there," the warden pointed to a nervous-looking college student in jeans and a tank top. "Make 'im strip and hose him down."

"Why?" Johnny asked.

"Gotta delouse him... he might be dirty."

He and Sodapop approached the prisoner, and Johnny tried in that moment to look as menacing as possible. "Strip."

"What? I ain't takin' my clothes off for you bums!"

Johnny took a step forward, the billy club hitting the palm of his hand. "Do it." He must have looked more menacing than he felt, because the prisoner began to undress until he was completely naked, after which Sodapop sprayed him down.

_Prison_

Ponyboy felt small next to the guards. He crossed his arms over his chest, feeling the strange fabric under his arms and hunching his shoulders. They had given him a _dress_, bearing the number 30231. He felt exposed, wearing nothing beneath the smock simply because they wouldn't let him. Whenever he moved, he could hear the _chink_ of metal against metal as the chain on his right ankle moved with him, and his forehead itched from the nylon stocking they had placed over his hair.

"I-I don't want t'do this any—"

"Go to your cell, 30231," one guard ordered, poking Ponyboy in the back with the club, shoving him forward until he was in a cell next to a younger-looking student. He reminded him a bit of Johnny, with his big, black eyes and the defeated air about him, but other than that there wasn't much else. His fellow prisoner turned to him and offered a nervous smile.

"Ponyboy," Ponyboy said, sticking out his hand for him to shake.

"M&M. I mean, it's... it's a nickname but um... I—"

"48913, quiet!" M&M frowned, but quieted.

"Is Ponyboy your real name?" He was holding back a grin.

"Yeah. My dad gave it to me... y'know, to be original."

"D'you ever wish you didn't have it?"

"Kinda. It's not that bad anymore, though. I used t'get teased a lot—"

"Quiet in there!"


	3. Chapter Two

_I'd apologize for my absence but I don't have much of a good reason anymore. Thank you, Miscellaneous Rhett for pointing out M&M's eye colour; I'll try and remember that in the future but for now I'll try to just not mention it. XD  
Anything you don't already recognize belongs to me.  
Use of strong and offensive language in this chapter. You don't like it, you don't read it._

**Chapter Two**

Johnny had to get used to waking up so early in the morning. He found himself stumbling out of bed and on his way to 'work' with little more than a few cups of coffee inside of him and maybe a piece of toast, if that was what he was chewing on. For all he knew, he could have ingested one of his precious cigarettes and was now imagining that it was toast with butter. _Eggs would be nice, too_, he thought sleepily as he walked as quickly as he could toward the math building, already in uniform.

Changing of the guards. His shift began at two-twenty, and he was to wake the prisoners for the count. He was nervous, but felt empowered in a way. Having been shoved around for most of his life by various authority figures, it felt nice to be on top for once. He could do this, even if he didn't know anyone else working with him.

When he entered the "prison" he found four other guards there, one of whom was leaving. Three for eighteen prisoners. All the confidence he had vanished instantly, but he held his head up, taking a deep breath and tapping his fingers against the billy club.

"You ready?"

The voice of the guard nearest to him was pleasant enough, and Johnny nodded. "Yeah, let's do it."

_Prison_

The whistle was what woke him up, but he chose to ignore the sound, burrowing further into his uncomfortable cot. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to see what was in store for him unless it started with a 'mon' and ended in 'ey' and he could leave right after he received it.

Unfortunately, Two-Bit was not going to come out on top, for seconds later there was banging at his door and he sat up, rubbing his eyes and prodding one of his fellow prisoners in the side. "'ey, wake up, wouldja?"

The prisoner stirred, mumbling something about cigarettes, and when the door was thrown open, Two-Bit and his fellow prisoners stumbled out to form a rather unorganized line. The guards seemed nervous, and he snickered as one of them called for quiet.

The noise continued, until the whistles were blown again and he had to cover his ears.

"Up against the wall," commanded one of the guards, and with some smart remarks and a few jabs with the billy clubs, they did as they were told. "Count off." The guard's voice wavered a bit but still held some authority and they began.

"87591."

"48913."

"30231."

Two-Bit straightened at that voice. He _knew_ that voice. "Ponyboy?" Ignoring the guard's commands to get back into line, he waltzed over to his friend and tapped him on the shoulder, offering a grin and a wave. "What's a goody-two-shoes like you doin' in a place like this, huh? Soda's gonna be pissed—"

"79172, come here _now_." It was the shorter guard, the darker one, and something seemed familiar about him, but Two-Bit couldn't tell what it was that made him seem that way. He grinned, but sauntered over to the guard and stood, waiting to see what happened.

"Fifty pushups, no breaks."

Two-Bit scoffed, and folded his arms. "_Pushups_?"

"Sixty."

He refused to go down, staring at his reflection in the guard's sunglasses and ignoring the nervousness that was beginning to replace what he had mistaken for bravery, but was actually foolishness. "I could do it in my sleep."

"Ninety."

Rather than receive more (he was sure he wasn't in shape enough for fifty, let alone ninety), he got down and began, hearing nothing at first but then the guards began to count. The three voices grew into a larger sound, everyone counting as he struggled to do the pushups, his arms feeling weak.

"N-No stretchin' first?" He gasped, his voice strangled and barely audible over the cry of 'thirty-seven'. If he fell, would he have to do the rest? Gritting his teeth, Two-Bit continued, trying to shut out the voices.

_Prison_

Ponyboy felt horrible. He should have stuck up for Two-Bit, and he should have taken the punishment with him, rather than staring at him with that look that said 'I-don't-know-you' look on his face. When they returned back to their cells, having completed the count just as the sun was rising, he caught Two-Bit's eye but there was no warmth in them.

The guards changed sometime before lunch, when something that looked like food but could have been plastic was dumped in front of them and they were expected to eat all of it. He tentatively took a bite of the 'string beans' and glanced sideways at M&M. The poor kid was practically falling asleep over his lunch, which was understandable. He had heard him up the night before, moving around in his cot much like many of the other prisoners who had been unable to sleep on the beds with mattresses that felt more like bricks than anything else.

As the day progressed, Ponyboy found himself growing increasingly bored. He played a silent game of rock paper scissors with M&M while trying to ignore the snoring coming from their fellow inmate who had yet to introduce himself apart from the gruff '52103'.

It was when the guards were switching again that word began to spread. He wasn't sure where it had started from, but it managed to come into his cell from the one across from his through exaggerated mouthing. All it took was one word while the guard's backs were turned, and he felt some of the hope that had left him upon his imprisonment returning.

M&M tapped him on the shoulder, mouthing the word 'what?' and receiving a large grin in return as well as a single word, whispered so quietly that he had to practically put his ear to Ponyboy's mouth to hear it.

"Rebellion."

_Prison_

"Yeah, babe... I'll—no, I'll be back tomorrow morning. Gotta take care-a these bums otherwise—yeah. No... Sandy—I love you too. Well... tell me about it later. I gotta go."

Sodapop hung up the phone and went about getting dressed. His shift was the night shift, and he had spent the entire day resting up for it. It made him a little apprehensive that he didn't know any of the guards he was working with (even if he and Johnny had worked together the day before, he had been told there were certain changes that had to be made), but he could certainly handle some sleeping, bored college students.

When he pulled up the building in his truck, he spotted Tim Shepard and waved, receiving a tired smile in return.

"How're they?" Referring to his younger brother, to Two-Bit and Steve... anyone else he knew who had been shoved into the cells. Tim shrugged, his expression unreadable.

"Quiet as ever. If somethin' doesn't happen, I'm gonna go nuts. Seeya, Curtis."

"Later, Tim."

He entered the building with a smile on his face, a bounce in his step, and stopped dead when he heard voices coming from the makeshift prison.

"_Cocksucker!_"

"_BABY KILLER!_"

"Fuck fuck _fuck_." One guard rammed his shoulder into the first cell, yelling something that was lost in the torrent of insults coming from within each of the cells.

"What's goin' on?" Soda peered inside one of the cells, jumping back when someone's hand shot out, fingers ready to grab onto any part of him they could reach.

"I dunno," the other guard replied, looking ready to leave. "One minute they were quiet...th' next... barricaded themselves in th' cells!"

He ran a hand through his hair, before throwing himself at one of the doors. "C'mon man, move the beds and I won't—"

"Make us, faggot!"

The problem got steadily worse, until about midnight, when Sodapop suggested calling in the reinforcements. "We can't handle 'em by ourselves. Get the others."


	4. Chapter Three

_An update? This quickly? Amazing! Obviously none of this belongs to me. I'm not sure-- how quickly does this seem to be moving? I don't want it to seem like it's going too fast but if you take into account how long the real experiment lasted, it _did_ go quickly. And erg. I'm getting way to into this fic but it's going to be a short one and I'd rather not leave it._

**Chapter Three**

The reinforcements stumbled in, looking irritated and tired but ready to deal with the problem none the less. By that point, the prisoners had taken off their stocking caps and torn off the numbers that were sewn on their outfits and the insults continued, seemingly endless.

"Meeting. Out front," a more muscular guard instructed, and everyone filed out front save for one guard by the name of Mark who stayed in, trying to calm everyone down again.

Out front, everyone stood in silence for a moment, savouring it after being stuck in the noisy hell for the last few hours. It was Bryon who spoke first, taking up the position of leader with ease. "We gotta get 'em under control. Mark can't do shit without some kind've _weapon—_none of us can do a lot without a weapon." He held up the billy club, which was only visible because of the nearby streetlamp. "This thing isn't doin' anything."

Johnny spoke up then, using a tone Soda had never heard out of him. "Well _get_ some weapons. What about... fire extinguishers? Those things hurt like a bitch." Soda wondered if that had ever been used on him, but chose not to ask at that moment.

"What? Actually use_ force_?" One of the other guards, a strange freshman by the name of Rusty James, nodded excitedly.

"Yeah, man. Beat the shit outta—" Johnny cut him off, his voice just as quiet as ever but carrying some new authority. He held himself differently, and Soda wondered if he had changed any over the course of the two days.

"No. Use th' fire extinguishers t'move 'em. Take their beds. Get ridda the ringleaders. We can calm 'em down."

Soda decided to speak up then, an idea beginning to form. "Psychological?"

"Yeah. Psychological."

_Prison_

Ponyboy jumped back a bit as the door was hit with the billy club again, but the insults continued to stream out of his mouth. Everyone else was doing it, and all it had taken was one harsh word from someone who sounded like Steve, but he hadn't been sure.

There was no way they could lose in something like this, and the guards would _have_ to give up if they wanted to restore any kind of order... but something didn't feel right.

It was sudden; a blast of cold air, not even air... something else that made them stumble back from the doors of their cells and the insults turned to confused cries as the prisoners tried to move away. Seconds later the door was forced open, and a short guard stepped inside, ripping the clothes from their bodies and leaving them standing there, completely exposed. He surveyed the group, and Ponyboy shivered both from the cold and nerves that had seized him when moments before he had felt like king of the world.

"Come with me." The voice was familiar, so _familiar_ and Ponyboy should have known, had he not been worried about M&M as he was dragged from the cell, accused of being a ringleader and shoved into a small closet, crowded with six others, deemed 'solitary confinement'.

The beds were taken from their cells, tossed into the middle of the hall and then they were locked in again. Everything was quiet, until one guard began to heckle one of the prisoners.

"_Cocksucker..._"

Every insult that had been thrown was coming back at them. They rattled the bars of their cells, used the extinguisher to keep them back from the door and whenever they would come near, pushups were to be done.

Ponyboy slid down the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs in an attempt to hide his nakedness from the guards, feeling afraid and alone.

_Prison_

Johnny sneered, spraying the prisoners with the fire extinguisher again. "Stand up," he ordered, giving another short burst of the freezing carbon dioxide, watching as the prisoner scrambled to his feet. He watched as Mark took the prisoners from the cell closest to solitary, forcing them into three of the other already crowded cells.

"This," Bryon announced, motioning to the cell that now stood empty, "is the _privilege cell_. Those who did _not_ participate in the rebellion, get in. You," he pointed to a lanky young man with curly, black hair, "come here."

"Whaddabout this one?" Soda motioned to a prisoner who had been disturbingly quiet, the one who had caused the disruption the previous day.

"C'mere."

The prisoner moved slowly, and upon entering the cell was handed his uniform back. He donned it, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips before he lay down on one of the cots and closed his eyes, ready to sleep. A third prisoner was brought forward, one who had contributed but had stopped shortly after the guards re-entered and was deemed "good" by Sodapop, who shoved him forward.

"There will be no more _meals_," Mark announced, "no _clothes_, you will not_ wash_ unless you are put into the privilege cell. Is that_ clear_?"

All that greeted his question was silence, and the silence remained even after the guards from the night shift went home.

_Prison_

Two-Bit hadn't slept that well in ages, but it was interrupted when someone dragged him roughly out of his cell, stripped him of his clothes, and shoved him back into one of the "bad" cells before putting one of the ringleaders into the privilege cell.

"What—you can't fuckin' _do_ that," he protested, pointing at the now clothed prisoner. "He started it!"

It was Steve who was smirking at him from the cell, arms crossed in front of his chest. It was unbelievable, the nerve of the man... had he told someone about the rebellion? After all, how else was he to get into the privilege cell? It made perfect sense, to him at least, even though he would have thought differently under other circumstances.

"_QUIET,_" one of the guards roared, prodded Two-Bit in the chest with the billy club and quieting him immediately. By the time the guards changed, several of those who had participated in the rebellion were lounging in the privilege cell, while those who had very little to do with it sat shivering in the regular cells, feeling exposed and betrayed.

"You sold us out," Ponyboy yelled from one of the cells. "Fuckin' _squealer_." Two-Bit had never heard Ponyboy swear before, even if he _was_ in college, he always considered him a little too good for that sort of language.

But then again, he had considered the youngest Curtis above accusations, as well. "What the hell're you talkin' about? I never said a—"

"SQUEALER," someone else yelled, and everything fell quiet again when one of the guards hit the bars of a cell with the club.

The guards changed again, but Two-Bit had begun to notice that they all looked the same. Always frowning, sneering, prodding at them with the clubs and yelling at them to be quiet. When the night crew came in, he could no longer ignore his need to use the restroom, and managed to get the attention of one of the guards.

"What is it?" He sounded bored, tired, a number of things that Two-Bit wasn't in the mood to place.

"I need t'piss."

At this, the guard laughed, a cold laugh that made him realize that there wasn't going to be any sort of chance to use the bathroom.

"Lights out."

_Prison_

Soda threw another bucket into one of the cells. "Piss in there," he commented, snickering at the look of embarrassment that crossed the prisoner's face before the lights went off and everything went silent, save for the sound of a few prisoners relieving themselves in the buckets.

The silence was wonderful, and he welcomed it after the chaos that came with the rebellion. Flashlight on, he walked up and down the hall with the other guards, occasionally waking the prisoners purely for his own amusement. If there was any change in his personality, he hadn't noticed it, and assumed he was being completely normal.

"_FUCK—LET ME OUTTA HERE..._" There was sobbing coming from solitary, breaking the comfortable silence. Sodapop strode over to the door and rapped it twice with the club.

"Quiet in there."

The noise only increased, accompanied by what sounded like someone hitting and kicking the door. The cries of the prisoner within got increasingly louder and more incoherent, but he could still make out some threats.

_He's faking it,_ Soda thought, and turned his back on the door, leaving the sobbing individual to the punishment he surely deserved. He and the other ringleaders, minus Steve Randle, who continued to lounge in the privilege cell. _That'll change._

When he left for the night, replaced by the morning crew who immediately woke the prisoners up for count, the screaming continued, and just as he turned the corner he saw Johnny lead a struggling, dark-eyed prisoner out of solitary, leading him toward a side room to be interrogated.


	5. Chapter Four

_It's been a while... and none of this belongs to me, obviously._

**Chapter Four**

Today was a special day, or that was what Two-Bit assumed. The atmosphere seemed cheerier. He had been allowed to bathe, to shave, and they had gotten what had to have been the best meal of the ordeal so far. Although he didn't feel entirely rested, he felt a bit more upbeat and was curious to know what the day would bring.

The time went slowly, ticking away as his internal clock (which he assumed was off most of the time) began to warn him that the middle of the day was nearing, and nothing special had happened.

About twenty minutes later a girl walked in, one he knew from around campus by the name of Sherri Valance. A sweet girl, definitely good looking, and a cheerleader. He wondered briefly if she was dating one of the guards, but decided to not look too far into the matter. Things always seemed to go badly when he did.

"Mrs. Matthews? Right this way—is your daughter going to be joining us?" Sherri's pleasant voice echoed in the silent hallway, and Two-Bit felt his heart soar. His mother and sister had come to see him...

"Anne, don't you want to see Keith?" His mother's voice sounded strained, and Two-Bit stared at her from his cell, catching her eye and waving enthusiastically. This was broken when the short, dark-haired guard opened his cell and took him out, leading him toward the isolation 'room' and then veering to the left, down a hallway, and into a small room. After making sure that Two-Bit wasn't going to escape, the guard stood in the corner, hands behind his back, eyes trained on the area where the prisoners were to speak with their families.

When his mother entered, she looked nervous and tired, maybe a bit angry. Anne trailed in behind her, the sixteen year old looking around with a fascinated expression.

"You don't suppose you could leave, Mr..."

"Ma'am, you have ten minutes to speak to your son, I suggest you take the time to do so."

_Prison_

Donna had never seen her son so exhausted. He slumped in his seat, shoulders hunched and that same smile on his face... only his face didn't seem ready to accommodate it. It was more of a grimace when matched with the dark bags under his eyes and the pale skin. What were they doing to her son?

Anne sat down next to her, drummed her fingers on the table, and looked at the guard. "Who're _you_ supposed to be?"

The guard's expression didn't change, but he still spoke to her. No emotion. Maybe contempt. "Ma'am, your time is running out."

She didn't feel comfortable speaking to Keith (_Two-Bit,_ she reminded herself, _it's been Two-Bit since he was twelve_) with this man in the room, but she hadn't spoken to her son in days, and missed him terribly.

"How... how are you feeling?" Her voice wavered, and she felt a lump rising in her throat. He didn't have to be part of this...

Two-Bit shrugged, all enthusiasm from before, when she had seen him on her way in, was gone. It was as if the guard was sucking it out of him bit by bit. "I'm... alright..."

Donna didn't believe it one bit. "Honey, if you want to leave, I could talk to the man running the programme, you don't need to be here—"

"Ma'am, prisoner 79172 has committed a grievous crime, and should be kept—"

"He doesn't deserve _this_! Look at him!"

The remainder of her ten minutes with her son was spent with the guard, arguing, and yet she left the building without Keith (_Two-Bit_). The guard's words still flew through her mind, and she wondered how she had ever fallen victim to such a blatant use of reverse psychology.

"_Do you think your son isn't fit to complete this?"_

"_No, I think he's very capable."_

"_If you'd rather take him—"_

"_No, he can do this on his own."_

What sort of mother _was_ she? To leave him in a place that was hardly fit for any human being. She knew the guard, too. Usually a quiet boy... Keith (_Two-Bit_) had brought him home to dinner, said he met him at a party, but the boy (_... Johnny..._) hadn't seemed like the partying type.

The experiment wasn't going to prove anything. It would just be turning innocent boys into monsters.

_Prison_

It was going around again. Rumours of a rebellion led by prisoner 48913. The one that had gotten away, who had conned his way out of the prison and was going to help others.

He sat in the meeting room with the other guards, all but Mark, who had offered to take his shift in the room where the parents spoke to their children. Darrel glanced toward the door, then back at the other guards.

"I've spoken to the jail..."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath. The jail's decision determined whether or not they would be able to fix everything peacefully or not. Some part of Johnny hoped it wouldn't happen, that they would be able to use _real_ force on the prisoners, show them that they weren't going to play around anymore.

"They won't let us move."

"What'll we do?" Sodapop, despite the fact that it wasn't his shift, had arrived to help with the security, to keep the parents calm and, of course, to discuss the plan of action.

Darrel ran a hand through his hair. He looked much older than he should have. It wasn't his face or his body, but his _eyes_. Johnny stared at those pale eyes for what felt like years, but looked away again.

"We'll move them."

"_Where_?"

"Anywhere... somewhere empty..."

Johnny spoke up. "On th' fifth floor, there's this room... I mean, there aren't classes in there tomorrow."

"Wonderful. I'll call in the others, you transport the prisoners to the rooms..."

"How d'we know they won't escape when we're moving them?"

"Bags. Blankets. Put something over their heads, they won't get out, and when 48913 gets here, I'll be waiting for him."


End file.
